George's Ghost
by 429027
Summary: Six months after the Second Wizarding War, George and Ron are trying to clean up Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. What happens when they discover a Ouija board?


AN: Hello everybody! This is my first fic so please forgive me if I made some mistakes. If anyone thinks I rated this wrong, please let me know. As I said I'm pretty new so I don't know how some of these things work. And, well your in the comments, want to leave me some feedback? : )

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter, but I wish I did.

It was six months after the Second Wizarding War and George was rummaging through the mess in their - his, shop. He hadn't been able to step foot in Diagon Alley let alone Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes since that fateful day.

Ron was there too (just to make sure he didn't have a mental breakdown). The Death Eaters had raided it, seemingly multiple times.

"George, I'm going upstairs to check the damage there," Ron said quietly. "Do you want to come?"

George understood the real message behind Ron's words _will you be okay down here alone?_ But George didn't have the energy to make a snarky reply - he rarely did these days - so he got to his feet and followed Ron in silence.

Before they entered the room the twins had shared, George felt a rush of panic, _come on George, get yourself together. You won't let Ron see you cry. You won't._ George closed his eyes and took a deep breath and then walked into the room.

It was like he had just been slapped in his face, the whole room reminded him of his brother. George felt another panic attack coming on, so he sat on the nearest bed, not realizing that it belonged to his twin. When George became aware of this fact, he lept into the air like he had been shocked, which did nothing to slow his racing heart.

As George tried to calm himself down, Ron was busy looking through the closet.

"George?" Ron asked hesitantly. "Why do you have a Ouija board?"

"We never owned a Ouija board, creepy things those. Maybe some straggler camped out here and left it." George replied automatically, not fulling comprehending what he had said.

"Yeah, probably." Ron agreed before throwing it towards the rubbish pile.

"Wait!" George yelled, snatching the board from the pile. "Ron, do you realize what we can do with this?" George asked, a mischievous glint returning to his eye that hadn't been present for six months.

"George . . . I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Ron, please . . . If he's . . . I just want to say goodbye." George hung his head and spoke in a pleading whisper.

Ron surveyed his brother with pity, but quickly changed it when George looked back at me, eyes full of unsafe tears of shame and sorrow.

"Okay," Ron relented. "But I'm burning this straight afterwards."

George nodded in agreement.

Ten minutes later saw George and Ron huddled around a small table. The brothers had had to clear away a lot of rubbish before the found a suitable surface to set up the Ouija board. Amongst the trash, they had found two heavily used candles which were standing crookedly atop the table. George had closed the blinds, and they were ready to begin.

"Do you know how to do this?" Ron asked.

"Not exactly . . . But he might be more willing to talk to us if I ask the questions." Ron knew George had a lot of questions he needed to get off his chest, so he didn't object.

"Alright," Ron smiled reassuringly at his brother. "I'm ready when you are." Ron followed George's lead and set his fingers on the wooden planchette that came with the board.

"Er . . . Hello, my name's George, and this is my brother Ron. Can you tell us your name." George held his breath, but nothing happened to the planchette.

"Did you do it right?" Ron asked.

"Shh!" George hushed him. "Just wait."

And then, the playing piece moved, _F . . . R . . . E . . . D._

George stood up suddenly and practically ran off into his ruined bedroom.

Ron spent a full minute contemplating whether or not to follow his brother.

When Ron looked in the open doorway of George's bedroom, he couldn't stop his heart from breaking. George was curled up on Fred's bed, silent tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. Ron padded over and sat beside George, pulling him into a hug in the process. Ron let George cry into his shoulder with a silent promise never to mention it again.

"Do you want to continue?" Ron asked softly. George nodded and tried discreetly to wipe some left over tears from his eyes.

"Yes." George spoke confidently. "I need to talk to him."

A few minutes later, Ron and George were back at the table, ready to talk to their dead brother.

"Fred . . . Are . . . Are you still there?" George asked hesitantly.

 _Yes._

"Are you in pain?"

 _Yes._

George gave a strangled sound of his own pain

"Why?"

 _Alone._

At this point tears were running down George's cheeks unashamedly.

"Did it hurt?"

 _Yes._

"Why are you telling me all this?" George spoke with anger now. "Why can't you just lie and let me be blissfully unaware?"

 _I'm sorry, you deserve the truth._

"I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't be angry with you, it's just . . . Why . . . Why you? Why not me? Why not us?

 _I don't know._

Ron was watching George with a peculiar expression on his face. He didn't know if it was pity, or confusion, or both. George was getting joy out of talking to a wooden planchette, and it scared him.

"George." Ron said cautiously, but George was too busy paying attention to Fred's next sentence to hear him. This time he spoke a little louder. "George."

"Huh?" He replied not looking at Ron.

"George, I think we should stay goodbye." George just stared at Ron before slumping backwards.

"Yeah . . . Yeah okay." George spoke despondently. "Fred, I-I have to say goodbye now." He said before swiping the planchette across the bottom of the board. George leaned back onto his elbows trying to hide his tears.

"I'm burning this now, remember?" Ron said to a nod from George.

Suddenly George sat up.

"Ron . . . If you're moving the planchette with your wand it's not funny." To that, Ron sat forwards to look at the Ouija board.

"Of course I'm not, that would be cruel."

No one was touching the playing piece, yet it was moving in circles around the board before moving to form a sentence.

 _I'll always be at your side Georgie, I promise._


End file.
